


So that makes it all your fault

by mofumanju



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, angsty but not so much, eichi is the idiot for once, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8208215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mofumanju/pseuds/mofumanju
Summary: “Keito,” he says, his hot breath that fogs the window for a moment, “do you think I can allow myself to love someone before I die?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Self indulgent ChiaEi/EiChia written because of Appi and her "LISTEN TO THIS AND THINK ABOUT THEM"  
> So, listen to it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CyuF9gv9Vs  
> And rip.

Eichi sits on his own, personal throne, looking at the sea from the window, letting his mind race through the waves, through the white foam - he wonders, for a moment, how it would be to drown in that ocean, how it would be to feel life leaving his body slowly, to feel his life being reduced to a feeble flame before being swallowed by the cold darkness. He wonders if he can allow himself to decide when to die, at least. Since he’s going to die sooner than anybody in that school, anyway. He sighs, turning his armchair towards the desk and looking at the papers on it - Ryuuseitai’s leader is asking permission to make a live at the end of the month and oh, God, Chiaki will never learn that heroes like the ones he cherishes for don’t exist in the real world.  
If they did, he would be safe.

“Tenshouin, I’m glad to see you’re doing fine, I was worried, you know?”  
And Eichi smiles at him, and he feels a bitter taste on his lips, because really, that smile couldn’t be less fake. He hates they have to share most of the time at school together - why was Fate so mean to put in the same class the Sun itself, and a rotten man like him? Eichi can feel himself breaking apart, and while he wishes Chiaki didn’t even exist on his own world, he fantasizes about how it would be, to ask him to hold his hands and give him a bit of that warmth that he constantly spreads.  
He’s holding something on his hand, a mascotte from some weird hero show only him knows about. Eichi doesn’t expect him to be the receiver of that little gift, though. “For you.”  
“Ow, how considerate of you, Chiaki. Thanks.”  
He hates him. And Eichi wishes he could run away.

Eichi doesn’t remember how Chiaki started to get closer. It happened so slowly that when he noticed it was already late. Should he take a step back, or is it already too late to save himself, save that innocent soul that never stops smiling, even when rain is falling hard over their head and they will both end in the infirmary with a massive cold?  
Chiaki doesn’t seem to mind, though. He takes a few steps over the school’s garden, opening his arms and bending his head to the sky. He laughs, and Eichi finds him absolutely _disgusting_.  
“You should come back,” he says, voice already tired, and Chiaki looks at him and his face is suddenly drained of all the happiness, his smile fading into a frown of concern.   
Well, Eichi knows he’s depressing but he doesn’t even like the truth slapped on his face like that.  
“I wish you could stay here with me,” and Chiaki’s voice is so soft, so _out of character_ \- where the hell did the Sun go? Did it hide behind the clouds? Eichi laughs, soft, almost scornful, but it’s not Chiaki the object of his mockery. It’s himself.   
“I wished many things in my life, Chiaki, and none of them has been granted.” He takes a step into the school garden, and oh, that frown of concern is turning into terror so fast that Eichi is enjoying it. “Let me join you, just for this once.”   
He will show him what it means, to be too close to him. He will show him what it means to be befriended by death.   
And then, Chiaki will run away and he’ll be free. 

He doesn’t recall what happened, when he opens his eyes and he sees just the outline of someone sitting beside him. There is a cold feeling against his cheek still lingering, hot hands touching him everywhere, frantically, in panic. He doesn’t remember anything else, and the only thing he can do now is turning his head towards the person sitting beside his bed, and try to put him on focus.  
“K-Keito?”   
He squints his eyes, his voice low and hoarse, but the man in front of him isn’t Keito - he can’t find an hint of green eyes, he just sees brown, brown. _brown_ everywhere. He feels an hand over his forehead and it’s so fresh, so cold, that Eichi hopes he won’t take it off soon.  
“You almost killed me,” and again that soft voice brushes his ears and sucks all his strength - the few strength that’s still running through his weak body. Chiaki is so close, now, that Eichi wonders how could he even think he could be someone else. He closes again his eyes, wishing for darkness to take his soul and bring him somewhere else, where he can be free to reject any kind of affection without feeling a monster, an empty shell. “Why did you come under the rain?”  
He doesn’t answer. He’s breathing so slow that for a moment he thinks to pretend to be fallen asleep again. But he can’t. Chiaki’s presence in the room makes him feel nauseous, makes him feel _in danger_.  
Why does he feel like that?  
“You should go,” he whispers, feeling pain stabbing his throat, and even if he doesn’t see him he can clearly imagine Chiaki shaking his head.   
“I’ll stay with you until you feel better.”  
“Well,” and his voice is full of resignation, as his lips curve in a bitter smile, “you’ll have to wait a bit then.”

He’s tired.   
He’s tired of hating him, he’s tired of waiting for him to appear in the garden when they have lunch break and he doesn’t feel too well to leave his class. He doesn’t mind Keito looking at him and sighing like a worried mother, he doesn’t need that now.  
He needs to sort his feelings out. And he didn’t even try yet, but he already feels tired. He wants him, and at the same time he doesn’t want him to take even a step towards him. Keito is the only one who can deal with him, the one who knows where Eichi’s steps are bringing him.   
His grave is already waiting for him, how is he supposed to make some silly, pretending hero to get to his heart like that? He doesn’t want to. He should push him away, but each time he feels like his strategy is a total failure - he can’t really treat him harshly, he just can’t.   
Chiaki is the Sun he despises since he was born, that warmth that he will never feel on his skin. He longs for him, longs for his touch, and still just the idea wants to make him throw up.  
He’s never been weak. Why now of all times?  
“Keito,” he says, his hot breath that fogs the window for a moment, “do you think I can allow myself to love someone before I die?”  
Keito doesn’t answer. Because they both his words would disappoint the both of them.

He can feel Chiaki’s glare over his shoulders, but Eichi just can’t stand to stay near him for more that their classes’ time.   
He can’t allow himself to be so weak, and he can’t allow Chiaki to get closer than he already did, because what if he falls in love like he did with him, and Eichi condamns him to a life made of sorrow and hospital and surgical mask worn 24/7?  
He can’t allow that.   
Still, avoiding him is the most difficult thing he has done in his whole life. He can’t stand that broken smile when he looks at him and tries to get his attention, he can’t stand to see him looking outside the window, he can’t stand to see him drained of all that vitality that made him fall like an idiot.   
That’s why he leaves his class as soon as their lessons end, and runs to the Student Council room to find a bit of comfort. It’s been two weeks, now, that he avoids to share the same space as Chiaki - it’s been two weeks since he made Keito that silly question and he realised how deep he was in something he didn’t ask for.  
It’s all Chiaki’s fault.   
His head rolls back to the door and he breathes, slowly, his lungs in pain as he tries to catch air again. Nobody will come, today, and for a moment he thinks about hiding there for the rest of the day, and pretending he felt bad and he just went home without letting anybody know.  
He wishes he could.

“Tenshouin.”   
The voice of his personal demon calls him, his voice soft, worried, and Eichi can feel a glint of _annoyance_ lingering between each single syllable of his name. He stops, and curses Chiaki for being faster than him, the door of the Student Council room just a few steps from him.  
He might just ignore him and close himself inside, why should he care, after all?  
But he doesn’t, he just stay there as his fists clench and he stops breathing, as he stares on a point on the wall before him, at the end of the hallway. Why must Chiaki be so stubborn? Why can’t he just give up, like his parents did, like his friends did - except for Keito of course, but Keito is an exception among all those people that loved to define themselves as something they never were.   
“What,” he mutters, and well, Chiaki might be angry as much as he wants but he is _angrier _\- he’s tired to run away, he just want to be left alone. He wants to be alone.  
He doesn’t deserve Chiaki’s attention, so why should he long for it, by the way.  
Chiaki doesn’t answer, and Eichi is tempted to wait until he turns his heels and goes back from where he came, but he can’t stand to wait until that moment, so he starts to walk again while he tries to ignore his blood drumming in his ears.   
“If you’ll excuse me,” he says, and he hopes that Chiaki won’t follow him, as he covers the distance between himself and the door of the council room with a few steps. He’s almost there, the door half open and a foot already inside the room, when he feels strong fingers around his wrist, and his world crumbles.  
Chiaki pushes him inside, making Eichi fall in his own trap - that place was a shield, a sacred temple, and now everything is rotten, infected with Chiaki’s breath, fast and hot against his face. The door slams, and for a moment Eichi hopes that someone has heard it, in the hallway, that someone will come and save the last fragments of a willpower that is going to die for sure if nobody comes to his rescue. Chiaki’s hand hits the door and Eichi feels framed, lost, and his heart is racing in his chest, so fast that who knows if he’s going to die, and be saved by the Fate he hates so much.  
“Why are you avoiding me?” and Eichi is sure he has never heard Chiaki’s voice so flustered, his eyes burning with something that Eichi can only identify as despair. “Why?”  
“I’m not-”  
“You are!”  
It wasn’t meant to be like this. He was so stupid, to think that avoiding Chiaki would give some kind of progress, that he would push him away. It would have worked with anyone else, but Chiaki is not _anyone else_.   
He turns his head and stares at the floor, because he’s starting to feel his eyes watering and God, crying before that idiot is the last thing he wants to do. He bites his lower lip and breathes, once, twice, focusing on the air filling his lungs more than on the hot brush of Chiaki’s breath over his skin.   
He doesn’t want to feel like this. He doesn’t want to feel the need to put his life on Chiaki’s hands, he doesn’t want him to see the worst of him - he doesn’t want to taste a glimpse of a normal life where his illness doesn’t exist, and he can allow himself to fall in love without the risk to hurt someone else in the process. He doesn’t-  
It requires too much effort now, to keep control of his feelings, to keep his mouth shut as Chiaki leans over him, and breathes over his neck. He wants to cry and at the same time wants to give up - can he give himself the illusion that Chiaki really is an hero, and that he can save him from his sad, already set destiny? He clings over his back, bending his head to find a shield on that small curve between Chiaki’s neck and shoulder, and he suddenly is so weak, more than he is when his illness come to reclaim his body.   
It’s a different kind of weakness, that shakes his legs and makes his will tremble. And he doesn’t care, now, if Chiaki raises his face and meets his eyes - he doesn’t care, if that silly self proclaimed hero of justice brushes his lips against Eichi’s mouth, and asks for permission to give him the knockout blow. And there is really nothing he can do, if not ignoring his brain screaming in panic, if not relishing each second of that soft touch against his parted lips, and the taste of Chiaki’s tongue against his own.   
He wants to run. He wants to stay. He wants to disappear, die there between those strong arms - _“do you think I can allow myself to love someone before I die?”___  
And the answer is still no, but how can he fight something like this, when his system is down and the only thing that fills his mind now is Chiaki’s name?   
He moans against Chiaki’s tongue, and he doesn’t know how to stop that feeling of warmth that’s streaming through his veins and it’s making him melt, legs like jelly and short breaths escaping his mouth. It’s all sloppy and clumsy, wet noises filling his ears, burning his body. Is it supposed to feel like this, the first kiss? Is it supposed to take your stomach and twist it, is it supposed to make you feel the weakest human being in the history of the World?   
He’d be happy to die like this. He wouldn’t be happy to die knowing that he showed the weakest part of himself to the one he wanted to stay oblivious  
But after all, it’s not his fault. He tried so hard not to surrender to his own needs and follow his instict, he tried so hard to protect himself from pain, to protect Chiaki from an guaranteed loss - it’s not his fault.

___“Do you think I can allow myself to love you before I die?”_ _ _


End file.
